


What a Catch

by MarauderCracker



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Gen, Heist AU, M/M, wounds cw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 15:22:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7444207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarauderCracker/pseuds/MarauderCracker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'd heard rumors that the Lightwood crew was going after this job as well, of course. Simon wasn't stupid, he listened into the chatter in the underworld and always made sure to have as much information on a contract job as they possibly could.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What a Catch

He'd heard rumors that the Lightwood crew was going after this job as well, of course. Simon wasn't stupid, he listened into the chatter in the underworld and always made sure to have as much information on a contract job as they possibly could. 

Nobody had wanted this job when the usual black market contacts started spreading the details, but Clary was just reckless enough to try and give it a shot. Stealing from a thief was always dangerous. Stealing from Camille Belcourt, the internationally renowned art smuggler? Freaking Mission Impossible. But Clary liked a challenge, and Simon and Maureen always followed.

Maureen was the best thief in the criminal world, Clary was a mixture of muscle and con-woman like no other. Simon was the tech guy and the getaway car, which wasn't as flashy a job, but he had a head for schemes and usually helped engineer their heists. Their jobs were damn near flawless, even when the Lightwoods decided to try and steal the same book they were after.

After sneaking into Camille Belcourt's hotel through the air vents and bypassing all of her security systems without so much as a hitch, Clary had cheerfully announced through the com that they were making it out with the Book Of White in their power, and Simon already had the engine on. His foot was hovering on the accelerator, waiting for Clary and Maureen to make it out of the building so they could get the hell out of Manhattan and get their payday as soon as possible. Magnus Bane, their contractor, would be more than happy. 

Simon was fantasizing about the tech toys he would buy with his cut of the half a million dollars they were getting for this job when Maureen's voice resonated in their open communication channel. "What are y'all doing here?" she asked, and Simon thought back to the half-baked gossip that the Lightwoods had taken this job too. He heard a woman's laughter and wished they had prepared better for this. 

"Looks like you got here a little bit too late," Clary's voice comes in, hunger for a fight already boiling in her tone. It's too loud, Simon thinks, just as his computer detects the Hotel Du Mort's silent alarms going off. He calls out for Clary and Maureen, but the only answer is a high pitched screech in his com as the security system cuts off all signal. He hears the unmistakable sound of gunshots inside the building and feels his blood running cold. 

When the doors burst open a minute later, it isn't Clary and Maureen coming out. He sees a head-full of blond hair, a mass of dark curls, shiny red blood. The passenger door is yanked open and a face he's only seen in mugshots so far appears on the other side, anger and desperation clear on the man's expression. The woman on his side is leaning almost all of her weight on him, blood covering her tight silver shirt almost entirely.

"Our getaway car is on the other side of the building. My sister needs medical attention _now_ ," the man tells him, not even waiting for a reply before he opens the door to the backseat and helps the injured woman into Simon's van. "Alec will pick up your partners," the man tells him before Simon can stammer out his objections. He slams the back door shut, gets in the car next to Simon with another slam. The cold, no-nonsense tone of his voice fades into sheer terror as he adds, "please."

Clary's voice comes through the com again, finally, distorted but intelligible. "We're coming out through the back, one of the Lightwoods is with us!" she tells him as Simon steps on the accelerator without any further hesitation. He thumbs the speaker button on his dashboard without looking, so Maureen's soft voice echoes through the van. "If he tries to take the Book I'll kick his ass."

With the sound of sirens not far away, Simon watches the man next to him out of the corner of his eye. He can see the pair of guns strapped to his thighs, the blood staining his hands. He's half turned on his seat, one hand reaching for his sister on the backseat protectively. 

"I'm going to Luke's. Met you there," Simon tells his partners. The woman bleeding all over his backseat groans in pain. "Tranquilos, we'll get your girl fixed in no time," he adds, more to himself than to the two thieves that have barged in his vehicle.

"Gracias," the woman manages, her voice strained and weak. The man doesn't speak, but Jace Lightwood isn't known to be a man of many words. A hit-man like no other, sure, but not the kind to ask por favor or say thanks. 

Simon feels a hand on his shoulder, blood-sticky fingers pressing against his collarbone. The Lightwoods' reputation says Simon should translate the touch as a threat. Instead, he hears a thank you. 

Simon mutters a prayer in Hebrew as he passes a red light and that grateful hand doesn't leave his shoulder. 


End file.
